There Are Other Moves
by huntinglily
Summary: It's the voice of the one person I know will come if I need her, because she has a heart of gold and no matter what I've done to her in the past, she has always been there no matter what. Jori. Rated M for later chapters.


**This is my first attempt at writing a Jori fic. I've only ever done Faberry, so this is very new to me. But it's a pairing I have always adored and couldn't resist writing about.**

**Warning - There will be slight mentions of self-harm in this, but absolutely nothing drastic or gory or overly detailed whatsoever. It will play a somewhat relative but _small_ part to the story.**

**Disclaimer - I do not own these characters. They belong to the writers of Victorious.**

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry, Jade. But I can't do this anymore.<em>

Beck's words slam through my head and into my heart again and again, shattering me into a million pieces. I check my watch. It's been exactly 46 minutes and 35 seconds since those words fell from his lips and destroyed me.

There's this indescribably painful feeling in my stomach, my chest, my entire body. It's a squeezing and a smashing and a breaking all at once. It's awful. It hurts. I briefly question if dying would be less painful.

I tried to argue when he told me it was over; that he was ending our two and a half-year relationship. I tried to tell him that we just needed a break, I could and would change for him if he needed and wanted me to, and that this was just another bump in the road. But he wouldn't listen. His tone of voice was tired, gentle, but firm.

"Jade, it's been almost three years. You don't let me in. You're angry all the time. You think you're perfect and that we're perfect. But you're not and neither is this. Us. You get mad at me for no reason. You push me away. Maybe you're right and all we need is a break. But I can't and won't wait forever. I've done my time. I've waited and tried, but time's up. This hasn't been working for awhile now, and not even you can deny that." He had given me a sad look before his final words. "It's over."

Tears had spilled over my eyes as I gasped, a sharp pain slicing through my heart.

"But I love you," I had whimpered, for once not caring how pathetic and weak I must have sounded. But Beck just shook his head with finality.

"I'm sorry, Jade. But I can't do this anymore."

After that, I hadn't tried to fight it. I couldn't. There was nothing left in me. I walked away from his trailer and I'm still walking. I check my watch again and see that it's now been 51 minutes and 28 seconds since my entire world and everything I know to be familiar and comforting came crashing down.

It's past midnight, close to 1am, as I aimlessly wander the streets of Hollywood. I feel numb. I feel listless. I feel homeless.

For the past two and a half years, Beck's trailer has been my home. For the past two and a half years, Beck has been my home.

I don't want to go back to my house, because I know what will be waiting for me there. Emptiness. Darkness. A mother who will come home tomorrow morning, probably hungover and with little to say to me.

As tough as I am at times, though, I'm not stupid. I know I can't stay outside all night. For one thing, I would freeze. I'm still in the tight black dress that I chose to wear to dinner with Beck earlier. I figured I would stay at his trailer for the night, so I hadn't bothered to bring a jacket.

For another thing, I'm drunk. Not completely wasted, but as soon as I left Beck's trailer, I had gone straight to the closest liquor store and begged the cashier on the night shift not to card me. Finally, he gave in and let me purchase a fifth of vodka. I had downed half of it already, and I still occasionally brought it to my lips every few minutes and took a sip.

That's what I do; that's my move. When Beck and I fight, I drink myself into oblivion until I can't feel the pain anymore.

It's not working this time, though. I feel just as broken as I did when Beck had told me it was over. As I stumble down the sidewalk, making my way through the city with no set destination, I pass a closed shop and catch my reflection in the window.

Black make-up is streaked down my face from the countless tears I've cried in the past hour. I'm in nothing but my black dress. No jacket. No shoes. I had been wearing heels earlier, but eventually the uncomfortable shoes had started to cut into my feet so I had taken them off several blocks back, leaving them on the side of the road. My long, dark hair tumbled down the length of my back in a tangled mess of waves.

But it was the look on my face – a look of heartbreak despair – that had me crying all over again. I looked like a train wreck. I felt like a train wreck, both emotionally and physically.

Not for the first time in my life, but for the first time in a long time, I felt completely and utterly alone.

It was now 1:16am. The temperature was still dropping and I could barely feel my feet, let alone the rest of my body. I was shaking and shivering uncontrollably, to the point where I dropped the bottle of vodka. It shattered at my feet as it hit the sidewalk, glass shards flying in every direction.

The broken bottle looked like how my heart felt.

I stooped down and picked up a piece of the glass. It was thin and sharp and lethal. I studied it carefully, a dangerous thought running through my head.

Alcohol is my first move. But it hasn't always been that way.

I used to have another.

It had been so long since I played that other move. But closing my eyes, hearing Beck's words echo through my head yet again, I couldn't think of anything else that would help. The alcohol wasn't getting rid of the pain.

But this could.

Slowly, I dragged the jagged glass across my left wrist. It stung momentarily, and a thin ribbon of blood appeared.

This had been my move long before I discovered the effects of alcohol. It had always helped. Feeling something physical had never failed to take away some of the emotional hurt.

Until now.

As I stared down at my bleeding wrist, my vision was blurred with tears. I had been clean for so long. Two and a half years, to be exact. Because with Beck, there was never any need. Alcohol was enough. His apologies were enough.

He was enough.

But I don't have that luxury anymore.

It's 1:37am in the morning and I have no idea what to do. I feel lost and confused and alone and scared. I am scared of what will happen to me now that I don't have Beck. I am scared of what I will do. I am scared of the things I am capable of doing to myself in this state of mind.

I am a danger to myself and I am scared.

Hands trembling, I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. I find the one I'm looking for and I shakily press the call button. I cradle the phone close to my head and pray for an answer.

It rings four times and I almost give up hope, but then a voice comes through. It's a voice that entered my life a year ago. It's a voice that sounds and feels like warm sunshine as it pours through the phone and washes over me.

It's the voice of the one person I know will come if I need her, because she has a heart of gold and no matter what I've done to her in the past, she has always been there no matter what.

"Jade? Is everything okay?" Tori asks when she picks up the phone. She voice is heavily laced with sleep and a jolt of guilt sparks through me as I realize that I must have woken her up. But she answered and that's all that matters.

She always answers.

"No," I whisper brokenly. "Nothing is okay."

Tori's voice is more alert now. It's almost frantic as she spews out a million questions that I don't know how to respond to.

"What happened? You do realize how late it is, right? Are you okay? Are you hurt? You sound like you're crying. Are you crying?"

My answer comes in the form of one word. "Beck," I choke out, and she must understand what has happened because she only had one question after that.

"Where are you?"

I look up at the street signs and whimper them to her. I can hear rustling through the phone before she speaks again.

"Don't move. I'm coming to get you."

My entire body aches with relief. She's coming.

"I'm getting in the car so I need to hang up now, Jade. Seriously, stay where you are and don't move. Okay?"

"Okay," I whisper, and she hangs up. It's 2:03am now and I finally sit down on the curb. But I can't let the exhaustion win. Not yet. I stay awake by counting to myself. I've just made it to the seven hundreds when I hear the tell-tale sounds of a car coming to a stop. I look up and there she is.

Tori flies out of her car and halts in front of me as I stand. She gasps as she takes in my appearance. I duck my head in shame and embarrassment. I know what I look like right now, and it's such a far throw from the lavender sweat pants, over-sized white sweatshirt, and Uggs that Tori is wearing.

The second she sees that I don't have a jacket, she whips off her sweatshirt and hands it to me. I try to deny it because all she has on now is a tight black tank top, but she refuses to take it back. I pull the sweatshirt over my head, leaving the hood on, and it's still warm from Tori's body heat.

I can see her assessing the broken glass on the ground, and I know she can smell the vodka. Without asking any questions, she gently guides me over to the car. I start to stumble, but she wraps one arm around my waist and doesn't let me fall. She helps me into the passenger seat before shutting the door and walking around the car to the other side. Once she's taken her seat, she starts the car and begins to drive.

She doesn't say anything, but it's not out of malice. There are tears falling down my face again, and I know she can see them. She knows that I'm drunk and upset and incapable of talking right now. So she turns on the radio and music filters softly through the car as she drives.

I lean against the window, huddled in her sweatshirt, and suck in a deep, shuddering breath. It's the first real breath I've taken since leaving Beck's trailer and it cuts through my lungs. The sweatshirt Tori gave me smells like her perfume. It's a sweet scent, so far from Beck's hard, strong cologne, but it's comforting. I breathe in again, inhaling the scent and a wave of calm washes over me.

We finally reach Tori's house and I'm so exhausted and still drunk. She helps me out of the car and into the house and up the stairs to her room. I've been here a couple times, but always only downstairs in the living room. We walk into Tori's room, which is painted in shades of pale yellow and light blue. It's so different from the dark walls of my own room, or the metal walls of Beck's trailer, but again I find it comforting.

Tori points to the bed. "Sit," she commands, so I sit. She rummages through the drawers of her dresser and pulls out a pair of black sweats and a dark purple tank top. She hands them to me and if I didn't feel so dead, I would smile at her color choices.

"I'll be right back," she says. "Change out of your dress while I'm gone. I have my own bathroom, that door right there." She points across the room to a white door. "Feel free to shower if you want to."

But I shake my head and she smiles, both sadly and sympathetically.

"Okay well, bathroom is all yours for whatever you need to do. I'll be back in a couple minutes."

With that, she takes off and closes her bedroom door behind her. I'm alone again, but I'm not scared anymore. I feel safe.

As I slowly change into the clothes Tori has given me, which is hard because my head is spinning, I dwell on the fact that she's taken me in without asking any questions. I don't know why I'm shocked, though. As much as I've disliked Tori in the past and despite the not-so-nice things I've said about her, not even I can deny that the girl is an angel. She has a heart as big as the sky and for some reason, she's never failed to let me in when I need her.

It's almost 3am. I walk into the bathroom and grab a make-up wipe. My eyes are lined with black and there are smudges on my cheeks. I take it all off, leaving only a thin line of eyeliner that I'm too tired to scrub hard at. I don't have a toothbrush, so I swish around some mouthwash for a couple minutes. I do it several times, until my tongue is burning from the minty taste. I hang my dress on the towel rack and walk back into Tori's room just as she's returning.

She's holding three water bottles, as well as a bottle of Advil. She hands me one of the water bottles and sits down on the bed, gesturing for me to do the same.

"Drink the whole thing," she instructs me. "Slowly."

I'm too far gone to care that she's telling me what to do, so very slowly, I take tiny sips. Just before I hit the bottom, she gives me two Advil and I swallow them with the last sip of water.

"Into bed," she says, and continues to talk as I crawl under the white covers. "I'm leaving one of the water bottles next to you on the floor for you to drink if you need to during the night. The other one is for you to drink in the morning. I'm going to turn the light off now, okay? Come downstairs and get me when you wake up."

"Wait," I choke out, finally speaking as she turns to leave the room. "Where are you going?"

"Downstairs, to sleep on the couch," she says with a shrug. "I figure you need some space."

But I shake my head, wincing as the room spins harder but ignoring the pain. "Don't leave," I whimper. "I can't…I can't be alone. I need – I need you."

Tori's brown eyes widen as the words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. I'm acutely aware of how pathetic I sound, but it's the truth. I'm afraid of what will happen if I'm left alone and frankly, right now in this moment, I'm not above admitting that I need – and want – Tori to stay with me.

"Please," I whisper as a tear slips down my face. "Don't go."

Tori takes it all in; my tears, my pleas for her to stay, the entire night in general. I can see a million thoughts spinning through her head, but she just nods and says, "Okay," softly as she turns off the light. When she crawls into bed next to me, I wrap my arms around her waist and curl into her, burying my face in her long hair and letting out a sob.

She murmurs words of comfort to me as I cry. She strokes my hair and holds me close to her and as this point, I can't tell if I'm crying because of what happened with Beck or because I'm scared or because I still can't believe how sweet Tori's being to me right now, after everything I've done to her and the way I've treated her.

But none of that seems to matter right now; not to Tori, anyways. She lets me cry and tells me everything is alright, that I'm strong, and that I'm going to be okay. If I had any energy, I would tell her how much this means to me. I would tell her how sorry I am for how awful I've been to her in the past. I would tell her what happened with Beck and that I hate him but I love him but I hate him. I would tell her that I don't deserve her kindness. I would tell her how afraid I am of what's going to happen to me now.

I would thank her for constantly being the one person I know I can count on, despite everything that has happened. I would thank her for picking up the phone and coming to me when I needed her.

But I can't. It will have to wait. I'm too exhausted and drunk and emotionally spent to do anything but cry. I've finally lost track of what time it is and eventually, I fall asleep to the soothing sound of Tori's voice, and the comforting feel of her fingers running through my hair.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter lengths will vary. Thank you for reading!<strong>

**Reviews, of course, are always welcomed and appreciated. **


End file.
